


If I'm Not You, Who Am I?

by helens78



Category: Las Vegas (TV 2003), Leverage
Genre: Amnesia, Crossover, Doppelganger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-06
Updated: 2009-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob doesn't remember who he is or where he comes from, but when a man who looks just like him shows up, he's willing to listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I'm Not You, Who Am I?

**Author's Note:**

> Christian Kane guest-starred on "Las Vegas" as an amnesiac named Bob. Bob turned out to be (SPOILER ALERT!!) near as anyone could tell, a mafia hitman, and went to prison -- but if the cast of "Leverage" has anything to say about it, maybe it turns out that's all wrong. Really, this came from a comment fic community and was inspired by the fact that doppelganger slash is always fun.

The lawyer--agent?--said her name was Mitchell. When the paperwork's done and the guards bring Bob out, Mitchell's standing by the van along with another agent, a man with black, curly hair, who comes around to the back and opens up the van for them. There's a third agent in the back, another guy, this one with a ponytail and sunglasses. He nods at the guards, at Curly and Mitchell, as they push Bob inside and the door closes behind him.

Bob's hands are still cuffed in front of him, and it takes him a few seconds to adjust to the light--there's one dome light in the back of the van. When his vision's clear, though, he notices the agent in the back has his sunglasses off.

And he looks painfully familiar.

"You," Bob whispers. He's off the bench like a shot, hands extended in front of him. He barely manages to touch the other guy's collar before he's flat on his back on the floor of the van, with the other guy straddling him, pinning his arms at the biceps. The chain from his handcuffs is cutting into Bob's chest, but he barely feels it. He's looking up at himself, and fuck the amnesia, he's _sure_ this guy is the one on the videotape, the one with the gun, the one who _stole his life_.

"Calm down," says the other guy.

"_Calm down?_"

"We think we know who you are."

"No shit," Bob spits back. "Let me guess--your evil twin? Or just some poor son of a bitch who happens to look like you?"

"You really _don't_ remember me, do you?" The other guy shakes his head. "Eliot. My name's Eliot."

"News flash, _Eliot_, I have _total fucking amnesia_. I don't remember _anything_ about who I am, or who you are, or--"

Eliot grabs hold of Bob's arms and levers them up above his head, stretching out on top of him. Bob almost bites his tongue, because _that's_ familiar--he doesn't know how or why, but his body remembers it.

His body remembers a lot, all of a sudden: the way Eliot smells, the way he feels when he's got Bob's hands pinned down (_cuffed_ down), the way Eliot's hips fit in between Bob's thighs.

"Oh--shit," Bob whispers.

"Sorry," Eliot whispers back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Do I _feel_ scared?" Bob rocks his hips up under Eliot's. "_You_ don't feel scared."

Eliot licks his lips. That looks familiar, too. Maybe it's just the fact that Bob's seen that motion in the mirror. Maybe not. "Man, I said I wasn't going to do this until we got you somewhere safe..."

And Bob could ask. He could ask who Eliot means by "we", what his real name is, what any of this is all about. They're not Homeland Security; Bob's pretty sure Homeland Security doesn't pin their long-lost identical twins down on the floor of transport vans and rub up like they haven't gotten laid in years.

But when Eliot rubs up again, Bob finds himself mirroring Eliot's tongue-swipe, getting his own lips wet, and he thinks the questions can wait.

"Do it now," Bob murmurs. "It's okay."

Eliot kisses him, and Bob remembers how to kiss back. He remembers how Eliot tastes, how all of this is supposed to feel, the giddy sense of being with someone who knows how to push all his buttons and is about to do them one-by-one.

"You took long enough," Bob whispers.

"I'm sorry." Eliot nuzzles the side of Bob's neck. "But you're safe now."

He's handcuffed, he's got his evil twin lying on top of him, and he still doesn't know who he is or where he's going.

But for some reason, he believes it.

_-end-_


End file.
